Great, he's blind?
by Draco Potter-Malfoy69
Summary: Harry Draco. What happens when Harry finds Draco in a rather...delicate condition? How will Draco react? A series in which Harry finds out that Draco...is in love? How will it affect Harry? Read and Review! Chapter 6 IS UP!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: What the hell is wrong with him?**

Harry Potter was walking back to Gryffindor tower in the late hours of the night, hair askew and robes crumpled. If one were to have watched him, they would've seen that he wore an expression of mortification, amusement, and disgust. If he could ever recover from what he had seen, it would be a miracle from Merlin. This is what happened.

He had eaten his supper, mash potatoes and roast beef, and chatted with his best friends Hermione and Ron about his classes (horrible) and Quidditch (we are _so_ going beat those bloody snakes). When he finally took his last gulp of pumpkin juice to wash down the remnants of food, he excused himself because he had loads of homework he had to catch up on.

He wasn't expecting to find a very much disoriented Draco Malfoy on the way back to his common room. It was almost laughable, especially when the blonde had muttered "Oh my god, I've lost my salad!" with shimmering eyes.

Malfoy, the stupid git, had probably gotten high on some magical weed, because his eyes were red-rimmed and he was unsteady on his feet. He smelled of whiskey too, so he was probably intoxicated or something. Harry didn't have time to waste, and he wasn't going to help Malfoy, even if he was in trouble. Maybe he was a little curious…

"What in the bleeding hell happened to you?" the black-haired 6th year had asked.

Malfoy seemed to be shaken from his stupor for he jumped almost five feet in the air. This amused Harry immensely and he began to giggle uncontrollably. "Where am I? Why is it dark? Why can't I see anything?" Harry's laughter ceased immediately as he realized the strangeness of the situation.

"Uh...we're in the middle of the 7th floor corridor and I guess you can't see because you got hit with a spell, I guess..." he trailed off. The green-eyed boy was actually very curious as to what happened to his enemy.

Malfoy suddenly recognized Harry's voice because he visibly tensed and began to stumble away.

"Get the fuck away from me Potter; I don't need your help. I can find my own-"

He tripped and fell over a suit or armor, making a great deal of noise. The metal kicked the platinum-haired boy away with its polished feet, and he landed next to Harry again.

"C'mon, let's get you to the Hospital Wing because you'll probably be eaten by something if I leave you here to fend for yourself..." Harry picked up the Slytherin and began walking. Malfoy was desperately trying to get free and even ventured to bite Harry on the neck, making Harry shudder.

"Stop that, idiot; I'm trying to help you!" Harry was loosing his patience quickly and Malfoy wasn't helping by being an uncooperative patient.

"Well, for your information, I don't want your help! I'm a _Malfoy_ for Christ's sake, and you're not supposed to; you should've just left me there." He stopped talking for a few seconds.

"Can we not go to the Hospital Wing? That woman scares the shit out of me!" His attempts at freedom were getting more and more frantic and holding him was slowly becoming a problem.

"Fine, whatever, we'll go to the common room, and I'll try to fix this." Harry wasn't the type to argue for long, because his heroic side tended to kicked in way too early.

The Gryffindor changed routes and began walking up to the tower, still holding Malfoy with care. If Hermione or Ron were to see him now, they would die of shock or…maybe just faint. He was being nice to the Ice Prince.

"Ugh, I can't believe I'm letting filth like you touch me!" said Malfoy in a high-pitched, disgusted tone.

"Okay then," said Harry as he dropped the lighter boy on the ground, his butt making a muffled sound on the ground. "Oh, and if any monster approaches you, don't make a sound. It's almost curfew so watch out for Filch and that annoying cat of his." He emphasized the word "watch" and made to walk away from the annoying brat.

"Wait!" yelled a terrified Malfoy. "I promise I won't insult you anymore; I don't want to die! I'm too young to die! I'm still a virgin!" His eyes were shifting even though he couldn't see a thing.

Harry gasped, partly because his arch-nemesis was actually afraid of something and partly because he was still a virgin. His shock dissipated however, and was quickly replaced by the desire to laugh uncontrollably. He didn't though; he wanted to find out more about the whole blindness thing.

"First of all, Malfoy, who the hell cursed you and why were you all disoriented before?" Harry was probing for answers, ones which he could later on use as black-mail material.

Unfortunately, Malfoy didn't respond, mostly due to the fact that he was sleeping peacefully on the other boy's shoulder, drool leaking slowly from his pink lips.

"Ugh," stated Harry, wiping the offending saliva from his uniform. "I'll need to decontaminate this later. Maybe Hermione knows a spell…"

After a few flights of stairs, the blonde boy began to stir in his sleep. Harry set him on the ground, because he didn't want to deal with a cranky, just-got-out-of-bed-and-don't-touch-me pureblood.

Well, what the Slytherin did next would've surprised even the all-knowing Dumbledore or Merlin. He blearily opened his eyes, revealing a sliver-grey color glazed with sleep, and stood up. He wasn't as unsettled as before, but slightly worse: he was wearing a seductive expression on his face and licking his lips, and Harry was just another painting on the wall or suit of armor. Then, huskily, he whispered "You dirty floor..." Then, with a loud moan, he yelled "Do me Baldy!" and began rubbing himself.

Harry, little naïve Harry, was beyond disgust and shock and almost puked on the ground, but it was too funny (he knew about Mr. Clean). Falling to the ground, he began to giggle like a school girl and forgot that Malfoy was in the vicinity.

Harry's laughter brought the pureblood out of his trance, and he began repeating those frantic words of "Where am I…" and stuff.

He was very confused and finally realized that he wasn't alone.

"Who are you?"

Harry, deciding that he'd better do something useful, didn't reveal his identity. He took out his wand and placed a voice transformer spell on himself, making it much higher and squeaky, as if he had inhaled helium.

"I'm your…uh…conscience." _Great Harry, you're so going to get beat up._

"Okay, well if you're my conscience, would you know if I liked boys?"

"Uh…well, you see…"

"Well?" Draco prompted. He could still be a pompous git even when he was blinder than a bat.

"Well, you haven't really admitted to yourself that you do…" Harry was stalling for time, which he knew he would need, because hell would freeze over before he told Malfoy that everybody already knew that he liked it up the a-

"Yes I have! I obsess about Potter's ass all the time! I love guys!" _Jesus Christ, he must suffer from memory loss... _

"Okay, well, I have to leave now, because I'm getting _very_ freaked out. Umm…I, your conscience, am leaving you now. Bye." With that, the emotionally disturbed boy ran three flights of stairs and "Obliviated" himself.

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**Author note: Please review.I updated...hehe..-shifty eyes-**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The truth comes out...sort of...**

Harry woke up in a daze, a blank space replacing where he was after supper the night before all the way to waking up. Not that it mattered anyways. He was content to lay in bed peacefully all morn-

"Harry Potter! Get your lazy arse outta bed _right now_!"

'So much for wishful thinking', he thought. Grumbling angrily to himself about the soon-to-be-sorry person that dared wake him up this manner, he got out of his four-poster bed and began to head toward said person, who happened to be Hermione.

The bushy-haired girl was very pissed because Harry had slept in on the very day that they were having a practical exam in Potions.

"I do not appreciate being woken up at"-he glanced at the clock, eyes widening-"9 o'clock in the morning!"

The Boy Who Lived realized the importance of his rude awakening, running back and forth, trying helplessly to put on his uniform and clean his teeth at the same time. Hermione couldn't help but let a tiny giggle escape from her mouth, receiving a glare from Harry.

"You could at least _try _to help me! You're just standing there like a freaking...useless thing!" He said this between putting on his tie and trying (and failing) to comb his hair. He was a pissed, cranky and tired teenager. He just wanted sleep, for Buddahs sake!

Finally, after the raven-haired boy had calmed down a little, he, Hermione and Ron made it to Potions only five minutes late.

Everybody was already seated at their desks when they arrived, and the Potions Master just sneered and deducted a fair amount of points from Gryffindor. No surprise there.

When the class began their exam, Harry's mind, being susceptible to wandering, did just that. He was supposed to be stirring his potion counter-clockwise, but he was lost in thought. Wondering where the hell he was last night, he suddenly felt a very sharp pain right between his eyes.

Wincing in agony and closing his eyes, snippets of conversation and images flashed in quick succession through his mind. He could distinctly hear "I like Potter's ass" and he could see a pretty blonde boy stumbling across a corridor.

He was in too much pain to be even remotely disturbed, but that pain quickly evaporated as many students began staring at him.

"Ungh. Professor, I'm not feeling well. Could I go to the Hospital Wing?"

In response, he received a dismissive hand-wave from Snape and a curious glance in his direction from a certain blonde Slytherin from the opposite side of the classroom.

Faster than a sweet-toothed person would run toward a three-layered chocolate cake, Harry leaped out of his seat and ran straight out of the dank and ill-lighted room, not even leaving the professor enough time to take away points from Gryffindor.

Instead of going to the Infirmary, the black-haired savior of the wizarding world started walking in the direction of the Room of Requirement. This was his haven, his place to actually think without people constantly badgering him with unanswerable questions about the universe and rubbish like that.

Upon arriving, he paced in front of the door and thought about comfort. Just a place to think peacefully, please.

He would've never expected to see what he saw in a million years, for he was naïve and slightly ignorant to the fact that he had many admirers and possibly stalkers, even though Hermione and Ron would think the opposite and warn him about perverts and homicidal freaks that actually resided at Hogwarts.

As he opened the door, his first glimpse was of…himself. There was an enlarged statue completely devoted to him standing in the middle of the room. 'Hmm. This wasn't what I asked for…' he thought to himself. 'I must've opened somebody's private room or something."

Shortly after spotting the sculpture, which looked remarkably like him, he caught sight of a faintly more shocking and slightly disturbing view. The walls were covered, literally covered, with pictures of all shapes and sizes of Harry, as if the person who visited this room had some sort of infatuation with him.

What shocked him even more was finding the magazines on the dresser next to a king-sized bed; no, not the cutsie little animal magazines. These were filled with semi-naked and naked pictures of the seeker, sometimes in sexy and fetal positions, for example, the dragon (AN: Starsky and Hutch, self explanatory).

He would've fainted dead away if he hadn't been so engrossed in a particular picture, one where he was lying on a bed looking very aroused. He didn't remember posing for any of these shots. Not one. Somebody must've been making Polyjuice potions and stealing his identity.

He received an even bigger shock when he came across another picture, too gross to describe. He glanced at the bottom of the picture and found that the photographer was none other than the menace and annoying twerp, Colin Creevey.

It was just so mind-blowing, someone having this special alcove dedicated to him. It was the final straw for Harry when he came across a particularly endearing shot of him; he discovered a milky white substance near the bottom of the page. He freaked out. A **boy** had been masturbating to his porno pictures. He was going to have a heart attack from all the shocks he was receiving.

Carefully placing the magazines back where he found them and making sure he didn't touch the offending substance, he was doing some quick thinking. 'The guy must have something personal in here…I need to find out who he is!'

He scanned the room, noting that there were many other items of his that had gone missing sprawled across the floor, for example, his special quill and former Quidditch robes. 'I was looking for those…'

Not having any luck with the floor, Harry began searching the bed. Alas! He found something tucked neatly underneath one the fluffy white pillows. It was book, a seemingly green diary that showed a moving serpent on the front cover and smaller moving white owls in the four corners. 'He even has the color of Hedwig on his diary; he is really messed up."

Flipping the book on its back, he received yet another shock. It was an explosion of a shock that would've probably killed Voldemort lest Harry hadn't killed him the year before.

On the bottom of the back-cover of the book, three words could be distinctly made out in pale shimmering silver:

_Draconis Lucius Malfoy_

"Oh, well that explains a lot."

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**Author note: Please review and tell me if you liked it!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: The diary**

_May 12th, 2005_

_Okay. Well, yesterday I get back from the last class of the day: Charms. I'm minding my own business, not insulting anybody for a change and just walking across the common room to get to our dorms (needed to do homework—badly—father is going to kill me if I don't get higher scores than Granger ) when someone thinks it's funny to throw a random curse at me. I was pretty mad that somebody just decided to use **me** as a common science-lab guinea pig, but I had other things to worry about, like my sudden blindness. I don't even know who cursed me (I have my suspicions) and what curse they used, but it wore off anyways. _

_What should happen to me when I'm making an ass of myself in the many corridors of Hogwarts? Venture to guess? Well, I'll tell you anyway: I stumble upon Potter, the guy that I've been lusting after for around…six or seven years. _

_Anybody who has been in this room and is now currently violating my privacy has **seen** my room, and therefore knows that I'm addicted to him and his perfect-ness. I want to pound him into the floor of the Potions classroom in the late hours of the night and ravish him like he's never been ravished before. Seriously. I don't even know when I found out, but somehow, my hate for him morphed into…love? I don't even know what to call it. I would say obsession. He's all I ever think about, every day and night, and I can't even concentrate in Potions to get a decent mark because he's **always** there and my mind goes fuzzy when I glance in his direction, let alone get to hear him talk in that sexy, deep voice of his. _

_Stop! Back to the blindness! Potter is there and he's making fun of me and then he gets all caring and sympathetic! The nerve of him! I feel like ripping his testicles off sometimes…_

_Now that I have calmed down a little, I will continue. I actually** trip **on a flipping suit of armor. _

_What would my father say? I'm such a disgrace to the name of Malfoy and I can't even act like a normal human being in front of the bloke that I like! He has no problem that I'm gay, my father that is, he just wants me to find happiness and love. He's been a changed man (pretty disturbing too) ever since they let him out of prison after the Golden Boy finally defeated Voldemort. Took him long enough! Sorry, I shouldn't be complaining, because I didn't even help in the war. See? I'm a useless bloody Slytherin that only cares for himself! I feel so misunderstood…I wish Potter was my friend…lover…_

_I should go now, I think I hear someone comi-_

The confession ended here, as if Malfoy had disappeared just as Harry had come into the room.

As The Boy Who Was Scared read this last entry, he thought that he had seen everything. His enemy was in love with him. Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, actually loved him.

Harry, being good and caring for most of his life, save for the whole wanting to decapitate Voldemort thing, which he did, was very unsettled to find this room, (a whole room goddammit!), devoted to him, but when he pondered the given information, it made more and more sense. His admirer had come out to the school last year, his 6th year, and it had been a "whole school witness" sort of event.

_**Flashback**_

_Draco Malfoy is sitting at the Slytherin table surrounded by millions of fan-girls and admirers while he eats his supper. He is expressing his discomfort and annoyance by scowling at anyone who tries to approach him, and it works, save for one of the prettiest girls residing in Slytherin, Blaise Zabini. She is fawning over him, whispering sexy comments into his ear and fondling the front of his uniform. _

_The blonde's ears are steadily becoming pinker and pinker, but it is from aggravation rather than arousal. His grimace is becoming evident to almost everybody in the Great Hall, but that does not make the red-head stop her supposedly sexy procedures. _

_Irritated and annoyed beyond reason, Draco Malfoy grabs her by the front of her uniform and flings her across the table, toward Crabbe and Goyle. The hall grows silent and the grey-eyed wizard is left to glare at the occupants. _

_He is taking big, claming breaths and has his fists balled together at his sides._

"_You ladies back off! Especially you, Blaise, I'm not attracted to you. I'm not interested. Hear me? I like **boys**. If any **blokes** want to fondle me, be my guest." _

_This is said very loud, the vibrations echoing off the enchanted ceiling and stone walls. _

_Many of the girls are heart-broken, but they can admit that they were waiting for this day to come. Malfoy was just too girly. _

_On the contrary, many of the boys have a new shine added to their eyes, and Seamus Finnegan ever goes as far as to grin and wink suggestively at the blonde and mouth 'How you doin'?', who looks surprised but smiles back while arching his eyebrow toward the Irishman. _

_**End flashback**_

The raven-haired boy sighed. He didn't know how to process this new information. How could his enemy love him? It made no sense. _But you've got to admit, _said a sneaky voice in his head, _he's got style and a really nice ass, one that would look fine in tight leather pa-_

'_ENOUGH!'_ said a slightly louder voice, but his resolve was quickly dissipating. He was not going to think about his arch-rival in that manner, first of all, because he was not out of the closet and second of all, because Ron and Hermione would kill him with magical bazookas.

Harry remembered that he had a time-lapse blank the day before, the day when Dra-Malfoy wrote that he was blind and stumbled upon him in a corridor. He didn't remember it.

"Why would I just forget something as funny as that?" said Harry aloud to the room.

_Maybe the things you saw and heard were just too unbearable and you just needed to…forget?_

That stupid, irritating voice was there again. Harry, trying to will it away, failed. It had a point. So, he used a Memory Charm on himself and he forgot! Those pictures he saw in Potions…They were probably glimpses of the things he saw and heard! He was never that great at Charms and it was just his luck to screw this one up.

The seeker decided to skim the diary for more useful information, but all he found were detailed fantasies of himself and Malfoy in the boys' Quidditch locker room and confessions of his love for Harry in the form of either poetry or love letters.

Just slightly sickened, the black-haired boy replaced the book under the pillow and exited the room quietly. He had some major thinking to do, and he needed to wash his hands.

Inside the room, hidden under the bed, Draco Malfoy lay and sighed in relief; he hadn't been caught. That was a very close call. He was completely mortified that Potter had read his personal thoughts out loud and that he had actually dared touched his "magazines". He had to dissemble the room now because Potter would probably try to show it to his friends in case they didn't believe him. He had _a lot_ of work to do.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Caught dreaming**

If one were to watch the blonde boy's private room (or frequently used Room of Requirement) through a secret hole or panting in the wall, they would see said boy's head bobbing around the room, stuffing his valuables (Harry's discarded tissues, etc.—need I say more?) into a leather bag covered with stick-on M's and snakes. It was a pretty cute bag too, Draco thought so. He had been using it for over half of his life.

After Harry had left the Potions classroom in that state of madness and confusion, the blonde knew that he wouldn't go to the Hospital Wing; he would go to the Room of Requirement. That's what happens when one watches their obsession after a certain amount of time. That person knows where and when that person goes places. Draco certainly didn't want Harry to see his "special" nook "dedicated" to him. It was too humiliating and private, and Harry would surely be disgusted and sickened.

Giving each and every student a very dirty "do-not tell-or-I'll-chop-balls-off" glare, he packed up his things in his bag and exited the classroom as quietly as a mouse, even though he resembled more of a rat, what with his pointy face and nose. He thought they were pretty…Snape didn't even seem to notice that his star student had decided to skip the rest of the lesson; he was too busy correcting "very" important papers.

The pureblood ran a fair amount of flights of stairs before actually reaching his room, and he was wheezing and puffing worse than ever before: almost as if he had asthma. Even with Quidditch, which seemed to complement his object of obsession very nicely, he had never been in fantastic shape. His parents had called him "sickly" and "weak", making the blonde very uncomfortable and unreasonably mad. He didn't like thinking about his parents; they had given him everything, from his fantastic hair gel to his perfect robes, but he was probably the unhappiest student residing at Hogwarts.

Being ignored by one's own parents is the worst treatment ever. Peers in his House constantly looked up to him and praised him, thinking that he lived like a king or a princess. They didn't know that they were idolizing a bloke whose parents didn't even love him, and if they had, they didn't give a rat's ass. He was spoiled, in the materialistic way, but he never felt as though he was wanted. Feeling like a piece of shit, he liked to focus on other things, for example, Harry, who at least _noticed _him.

He practically drooled when he thought of him, and that had got him in major trouble in the midst of some of his classes. One time, in Transfiguration, when the class was supposed to turn a turtle into a plate, Draco hadn't been paying any attention; most of it was focused on Mr. Potter's fine ass. Good thing he hadn't been drooling that time, or McGonagall would've either died from shock or laughter. Either way, he would've been to blame and gotten in deep doggie doo-doo.

Instead of having a plate where the turtle was before, Draco had turned it into a vibrator; his thoughts had switched before transfiguring the object. After seeing this, most of the class burst into helpless shrieks of laughter, earning a very reproachful glare from the stern teacher. However, when she saw the dildo that Draco had produced, she shrieked loudly, laughed timidly, coughed nervously and then sent him, who was beet red, out of the classroom with double the homework assigned. That was when his father had started his suspicions that he liked to swing on the other tree—if you get the gist.

Now he was inside his private room, back pressed against the door and sweat pouring out of his temples and chest profusely, sighing in relief that nobody had ventured across the room in question.

Not even one minute after the blonde had been in the room he distinctly heard hurried footsteps heading in his direction, making his heart pump even faster: he still hadn't caught his breath.

In a flash, almost like a ferret on hyper-pills, he skidded across the room and slid underneath the bed, almost decapitating himself with the headboard in the process. _You naughty headboard…_

The footsteps had reached the room. The worst part; Draco could recognize Harry's runners—the ones with the tiny initials H.P. marked in red marker on his left sneaker protruding from his black school robes.

The blonde's breath hitched and he almost swallowed a fair amount of lint. Fortunately, he realized that the offending bits of material stuck together were approaching his mouth at an accelerated pace, and he waved it impatiently away with pale hands.

After a couple of minutes, he could feel that his bed's mattress was too close for comfort to his flat stomach and chest. He could now hear a distinct rustling of paper…_Damn. Shitake mushrooms. _Harry was reading his diary! The blonde was possibly the most embarrassed and happy student in the castle. He was embarrassed because of the way he obsessed about his obsession and happy because Harry would finally _know _that someone actually liked him for him and not for his fame and dashing good looks. Okay, maybe for the dashing good looks.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, Draco heard the black-haired boy leave the room, but not before stumbling first on the many items littering the floor. The blonde set quickly to work: it wouldn't be that hard because he had his wand with him.

* * *

Later that night, on the other side of the castle, Harry Potter woke up from his nap drenched in cold sweat and supporting a very large…well, he was _very_ happy. 

Cursing and trying to will "it" away, he sighed in mortification and disgust. _Think about Hagrid and Dobby getting it on..._

He was, not by choice it seemed, dreaming about Draco Malfoy. The only tiny problem in this particular dream was that Malfoy wasn't cursing, threatening or insulting him. He was actually doing the opposite. He wasn't as cruel and annoying in the dream either, and he didn't look half-bad. Actually, he looked bloody fabulous! Fantasizing about someone as perfect and attractive as that going all the way to 2nd base with you is…shall we say, pretty arousing?

Harry was beyond the point of being disgusted with himself. The problem wasn't that he was getting all hot and bothered because of a guy; the problem was that the guy was _Malfoy_. He banged his head repeatedly on his headboard, making him very dizzy and even more disgusted with himself.

He was still in the closet because he didn't want to bother his friends with his new discovery; they would surely not bother to be his friend after he confessed. So, instead of inflicting his sexual preference on his friends' shoulders, he ogled the fetching boys in his year, 7th, and the year below. He would be found staring at Seamus Finnegan's rear during Herbology and Professor Sprout would reprimand him for not listening to her teachings. It was very amusing for Hermione, who had found out about Harry's preference when she came across his latest edition of "Broomsticks…not used in Quidditch" under his four-poster when she was looking for one of the books she had lent Harry. The latter, of course, was oblivious.

Harry sighed. After all that staring and leering, someone worth having actually shared his preference, and it wasn't a pervert; it was the hottest, sexiest guy in the whole school. All the girls wanted him, even after he had distinctly told them that he was strictly a guy-lover. These girls were very persistent…persistent enough that Malfoy had to beat a girl off his pant's buckle after one hectic day of fan-girls pestering him and shaking their asses in his disgusted and sneering face.

Harry had to admit to himself that he was immensely attracted to the blonde boy. He was almost so attracted to him that he considered sneaking into the Slytherin common room just to watch Draco sleep (and then wake him up and make love to him, of course).

The only problem with his attraction –he had been in denial for a year. He didn't know how to actually tell his friends that he was gay, let alone that he had the immense hotts for their worst enemy, the one that had treated them like crap and insulted them every chance he got. It didn't help that he got a warm feeling in his stomach every time Draco looked at him, making his knees go weak.

Glancing at the clock, Harry cursed once again. It was around 3 o'clock in the morning. He sincerely hoped that he hadn't awoken anyone with his probable moaning and flailing. The dark-haired boy sighed in satisfaction when he saw that the room was free of movement and rustling.

What he missed was his best friend, Ronald Weasley, watching him quietly from the gap in his hangings and shaking his head in confusion and dismay, eyes widening when he heard "Oh _yes_, **Draco**…".

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**A/N: Please review! I'm sorry for the wait...I was touring Europe and the UKfor a month!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Plans**

It was 3 o'clock in the morning, but Ron didn't seem eager to go to bed. Instead, he was pacing the length of the Gryffindor common room, burning a hole through the scarlet carpet.

'Okay, "Draco" could mean something other than Malfoy,' he fought with his mind, 'it could of meant…oh shit, it HAS to be Malfoy! What the fuck am I going to do?'

Finally Ron made a decision: he would confront his best friend about it early in the morning, so nobody could hear them. First though, he had to inform Hermione.

Fifteen minutes later the red-head sat on his bed, head in hands. He felt so left out, so unintelligent. When he had reached Hermione's dormitory, he had told her in a frantic whisper what he had heard Harry say in his sleep. The bushy-haired girl, disgruntled that her sleep had been disturbed, told Ron that she knew Harry was gay all along and then to get the hell back in bed.

It wasn't that Ron was homophobic; he just didn't understand.

An hour later, Ron couldn't take it any longer. He sprinted up the stairs going to their dormitory and shook Harry awake.

"Harry!" The red-head was bordering on insanity; he NEEDED to know.

"What the hell…?" Harry rubbed his eyes and sat up in bed. "Whaddayawant?" He yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth, letting Ron smell his bed-breath.

"AHHHH!" Ron felt like he was going to explode.

"AHHHHH!" Harry, scared of Ron's sudden outburst, screamed as well. "RON! WHY ARE WE SCREAMING!"

"I DON'T KNOW!"

"Okay…well, just to let you know, I think you have a disease."

"WHAT!" Ron reached for his emergency mirror hidden up his sleeve and took a good look at himself.

"AHHHH!" The Gryffindor's face and neck had broken out in a very colorful rash. Ron's face was unrecognizable; the once handsome, freckly complexion was covered in pustules of different colored liquid. The only places that weren't swollen or mutilated were his eyes, nose and lips.

"I must be allergic to stress…" Ron looked crestfallen. He was supposed to go on a very special date with Lavender the next day.

"Anyway, I don't exactly care about your face complaint because I want to know why the fuck you woke me up at this hour." Harry raised his eyebrows questioningly and yawned again.

"Okay, I just wanted to know if you were in love with anybody…" Ron's look was hopeful, but Harry sighed and a few seconds later he was in a deep slumber.

"Wow, you're so helpful…"

When he finished applying some All-Remover-Cream to his hives Ron went to bed, exhausted and ready to have dreams full of naked Lavenders.

* * *

Draco was still functioning at 5am. All of his Harry-possessions were scattered on his four-poster bed, and he had the curtains shut to avoid unwanted questions. The blonde had a really good idea. He would stick all of his pictures of Harry on the inside of his forest green curtains and place an invisible spell on them when he left the room. His plan was genius. GENIUS! He would have to get rid of all the other things, though; he didn't want his room mates stumbling on any of his Harry-porn or Harry-robes. That would ruin his already fragile reputation.

* * *

When Gregory Goyle woke up that morning, he heard the unmistakable sounds of moaning coming from the direction of Draco's bed. The Slytherin shuddered and tried to go back to sleep; it was around 8am and there was no school that day. 

It didn't work. The moans seemed to get louder and louder as time passed. It was making Greg very uncomfortable; Draco wouldn't be happy if he knew someone had heard him have those kinds of dreams.

Impossibly, Greg found a way to tune out the sex sounds and fell into a fitful sleep. When he woke up it was around noon. Everybody but him had left the dormitory, not bothering to wake him up. 'Nice friends…' he thought sarcastically, yawning.

As he got out of bed he stepped on something that felt like a magazine. Rubbing sleep from his face he picked up the book with his huge hands and scanned the front with his big, hazel eyes.

"AHHHHH!"

He found the porn.

Greg was surprised that he wasn't in a deep coma from receiving such a shock.

Draco had forgotten to destroy the last piece of evidence, the last of his collection of the Potter-porno, and inside that November edition were written the elegant words 'Property of: **Draco Malfoy**' in dark green ink.

* * *

At dinner that night there were two people who were acting suspiciously, but nobody cared or noticed. These two boys kept on glancing at two people: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. 

Food didn't matter anymore, even though it was a very big part of their everyday lives. They had more important matters to deal with.

They both noticed how Harry's eyes would seek Draco's blonde head and blush when the blonde would glance in his direction. They both noticed that Draco looked constantly breathless and slightly pink in his pale face.

Ron Weasley was considerably pissed off at his friend for not telling him anything about his dream. 'I thought we told each everything…Does this mean I can't even trust my best friend?' To put it simply, Ron felt like a piece of dog shit left to marinate in a lonely alley in New York city, even though he'd never been there.

Gregory Goyle was traumatized that his good friend was gay. This could mean disownment. Greg knew that HIS father would kick HIM out if he was a shirt-lifter, as he so nicely put it. The dark-haired boy shuddered at the thought of Lucius Malfoy punishing Draco. It was unbearable to think of, Lucius being the most horrible person to disagree with. He could just imagine all the weapons Mr. Malfoy would use…

He gave Draco pitying looks, which made the blonde raise his plucked eyebrows.

Ron Weasley and Gregory Goyle were both thinking of similar plans. They both wanted to know if their friends were really gay or not.

'Excellent…all I need is a Polyjuice Potion and a very good act.'

* * *

**A/N: Sorry I waited so long to update! I was in Europe, and we didn't have computer access! Here you go, hope you liked it, and leave some suggestions!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Lights, camera, action!**

Draco Malfoy blushed under Harry scrutinizing stare. The dark-haired boy had seemed to be glancing very often in his direction, and he didn't exactly enjoy the constant attention. It was disconcerting; especially because of the many rumors flying around that Potter had a passionate crush on him.

It was hard not to be rendered slightly (considerably) aroused after being looked at while eating strawberries and whipped-cream, house-elf dessert specialty (damn those wretched, annoying creatures!). Harry, being as bold and brave as his house description, would lick the white, creamy substance from his lips while gazing into Draco's unmasked, inviting grey eyes and then the blonde would moan while he touched his zipper—

"AHHH! STOP THAT THIS INSTANT!" Pansy Parkinson's nasally voice crashed like a tidal wave of disease-infested seagulls in his ears and he jumped about a foot off his seat at the Slytherin table, whimpering silently.

"Shit Pansy, not so bloody loud…my eardrums are inexistent now!" Indeed, he tapped his ear lightly to investigate the damage.

"We're in a public place, Draco! PUBLIC PLACE! What have I told you…?"

"Wha…?"

Apparently, Draco had dozed off during dessert, and his half of the table had seen him begin to touch himself. They gave him disgusted looks and continued eating, disgruntled.

"I don't have much of an appetite, thanks," uttered Crabbe, his face a sickly yellow as he diligently pushed his plate aside and gagged.

"G-guys…?" The red-head's voice shook from the dormitory bathroom. Unluckily, it was 6 in the morning and none of the boys could be bothered to wake up in time to get decent for school. That's what magic was for. What was the point of showering when one could merely cast a simple cleansing spell?

Ron took another cautious look in the mirror, which had unconsciously become his arch-enemy. The rash was spreading with a speed that scarily reminded him of the infection his dad had received from working in his dusty office at the ministry for extended periods of time. The elder Weasley had stayed home for over two months in order to rid himself of the painful warts that literally covered his entire epidermis. Molly wouldn't touch him for almost a year after the incident, and caringly decided that her husband needed more vacation time.

There was no way in the fiery depths of Hades that he was going to show his face at Madam Puddifoot's that day. Although, he did have other plans…

Harry sat, crouched, at the bar of the Three Broomsticks and downed another shooter of Firewisky roughly. Madam Rosmerta's eyes shone with sympathy, and she inclined her head, capturing the young man's gloomy atmosphere.

"What's wrong, m'dear?"

Harry's glazed eyes met hers and he sighed execrably.

"I-I think m' gay."

"Oh, well that's okay…why do you feel so down?"

"Think I'm 'n love with enemy." His head dropped with a loud bang on the wooden counter and he sobbed silently into his hands.

"Eesh. I think you should do what feels right." She left him crying, not knowing how to help the poor boy.

Red-eyed and stinking of alcohol, Harry returned to his dormitory. He didn't expect to find a very pretty, slightly glowing Draco laying on his bed in a very suggestive pose. Not even questioning how the blonde had got into his room, let alone his common room, Harry rushed to the other boy and kissed his lips passionately, making the other boy moan in approval. Clothes were shed and love was made, repeatedly, and only persisted until Ron stumbled in the room, also drunk, and realized EVERYTHING. He wasn't very happy, but this is a story about Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Who cares about Ron and his stupid boils?

* * *

**Okay, I had to end it here. It was getting boring, anyways, and I started this a year ago. **


End file.
